


Breaker

by duckiesinpuddles



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 01:22:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckiesinpuddles/pseuds/duckiesinpuddles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moran had an earpiece and was privy to the events on the roof in TRF.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaker

Sebastian climbs the stairs of the empty building, his earpiece allowing him to be audience to the goings on on the rooftop of the hospital. Sherlock has just arrived. He’s now trying to prove he’s outsmarted Jim; Sebastian smiles, _Impossible_.  


He continues to climb slowly, as the confrontation on the roof seems to be coming to an end. From what he can gather, Sherlock has just stepped onto the ledge. Sebastian slows, anticipating what is about to occur, imagining the celebration sure to happen this evening when Jim returns to their flat, victorious. Just as he is about to walk back down the stairs, a laugh - not Jim’s - comes through his earpiece and stops him in his tracks.  


“What? What is it? What did I miss?” Now it’s Jim’s voice. Sebastian mentally goes over the events and plans made over the past few weeks, it all seemed so perfect. What did they miss?  


“ _You’re not going to do it?_ So the killers can be called off, then. There’s a recall code or a word or a number.” Here Sebastian scowls, _shit_. There is a code. Jim has let it slip. This won’t do. Sherlock’s voice sounds mocking in his ear as he continues in a sing-song tone. “I don’t have to die _if I’ve got you_. ”  


But Jim doesn’t let his worry show - at least not as far as Sebastian can sense. He retorts, “Oooh, You think you can make me stop the order? You think you can make me do that?”  


“Yes. So do you.”  


Just then Sebastian’s mobile vibrates in his pocket; it’s one of the other men on kill duty, checking in with him. [ _In position at the woman’s flat. - FL_ ]. ****  
****

Sebastian quickly replies. [ _Copy. - SM_ ]

As he’s slipping his phone back in his pocket, it buzzes again. [ _Lestrade in view. - GH_ ]

Again, he replies. [ _Copy. - SM_ ]

Sebastian has missed some of the back and forth from the roof, he only picked up something about angels. Now Jim is speaking again, “As long as I’m alive, you can save your friends. You’ve got a way out.”

His voice pauses. Sebastian hears a mocking in his tone. Hopes Jim won’t... A sense of foreboding creeps over him. He holds his breath.

Jim continues, “Well good luck with that.” A short pause. Then the gunshot. Sebastian hears the two distinct sources of sound - from his earpiece and the open window. He exhales sharply, nearly doubles over - as if he himself has been shot.

Then he regains his composure and rushes up the stairs to that perfect window. One word, one name crashing through his mind like the ocean’s waves. _Jim_. He sets his bag down on the steps. _Jim_. He unpacks his rifle. _Jim_. Resolutely, he assembles it. _Jim_.

Sebastian sees Sherlock step onto the ledge, coat flapping in the breeze. He finds some relief in this image. In knowing the man responsible for his man’s death will fall to his own. He trains the scope of his rifle on Sherlock, wanting to see the look on his face; Sherlock puts his phone to his ear. Sebastian hears a car pull to a stop on the street below, sees Sherlock’s mouth form one word. _John_.

He rotates his rifle down to focus, take aim on John Watson. He can see the worried, devastated look on the man’s face as he stares upward. Sebastian - for a brief second - sympathizes. But at least he didn’t have to _watch_ the man he loved take his own life: John will. And with that thought, the sympathy comes to a screeching halt, and a cold feeling of satisfaction fills him. He watches the emotions flit across John’s face. Confusion. Determination. Anger - only briefly. Doubt. Then the reality, the gravity of the situation comes over him and he reaches his hand upward, towards Sherlock, as if he can stop him or catch him.

Then Sebastian sees it: the _exact moment_  Sherlock decides to fall, reflected in John’s face. Pain. John screams out, “SHERLOCK!”

He watches as John stumbles out of his view through the scope, hears the distant thud as Sherlock hits pavement. A small smile forms. He turns the rifle to get a better look at ground zero. Sebastian’s sight focuses in time to see John stumble to the scene. Broken.

He watches, vindicated, for a moment. Then, Sebastian disassembles his rifle, and packs it away. As he rushes down the stairs, to get away from that place, too close - and not close enough - to where Jim lies, he pulls out his phone and sends a quick message to the other assassins. [ _It is finished. - SM_ ]

****

* * *

 

****

Sebastian stumbles into the flat, having stopped at a pub on his way back, drunk. He crawls into the bed; it feels empty. Cold without Jim. There is a vacancy in the circle of his arms as he reaches across the mattress. His fingers skim the pillow, are not met with hair to stroke. Eventually he falls into a rough slumber.

The weeks progress this way. From the empty bed to the pub and back again. This cycle is interrupted only by time spent clearing things up after Jim’s death, reorganising the ranks.

On his way to the pub one afternoon, he catches a glimpse of a limping man out of the corner of his eye. He turns to see that it is John Watson, wearing a look of desolation on his face similar to the one Sebastian knows must grace his. In that moment, he once again sympathizes with the man.

He decides that he will fix it. For both of them.

Sebastian turns around and goes back to the flat. After making a few phone calls, he has found out John’s current address, and that there is a vacant flat directly across the way.

He goes to the safe, punches in the code. When the door opens, he reaches to the back, and his fingers close around a small glass vial - exactly like the one Jim gave to the cabbie so long ago. He pulls it out and pockets it.

Sebastian leaves the apartment and gets a taxi to John’s street. He easily bypasses the lock to the building across the street, and climbs the stairs to the vacant apartment.

Sitting in the silence, he recalls the reason he is here. _Jim_. He assembles his rifle with resolution. Finality. _Jim_. He watches John through the scope, his limping silhouette behind the thin curtain. _Jim_. Places his finger gingerly on the trigger. _Jim_.

As he is about to squeeze, something hard crashes across the back of his head. The rifle clatters to the ground. An arm holds him like a straight jacket. Leather gloved fingers tighten around his throat. Hot breath on his ear. An unmistakable, deep voice resonates, “No.”

 _Sherlock_.

“What are you?” Sebastian manages to choke out. The grip tightens a little. With spite, he continues, “His _guardian angel_?”

Sherlock scoffs. “Like I told your Moriarty, I may be on the side of the angels, but don’t think for one _second_  that I am one of them.”

 _Jim_. His face surfaces in Sebastian’s mind.

Sherlock snaps his head quickly, violently to the side. The last thing he sees in his mind’s eye is _Jim_.

Sebastian falls to the floor with a dull thud. It is the last sound before the empty flat falls silent again.


End file.
